


Better Left Forgotten

by headbanging_nightrunner, my_unlikely_hero



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Drugs, M/M, Rape, Requested fic, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-17 15:08:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14834613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headbanging_nightrunner/pseuds/headbanging_nightrunner, https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_unlikely_hero/pseuds/my_unlikely_hero
Summary: This was an anonymous request that Headbanging_Nightrunner and I kind of ran with :) sorry it took so long.Request: So what if, before knocking him out they gang rape a drugged Neil. Neil, drugged, can’t fight, and maybe can’t remember the whole thing except for flashes. Later, when Neil and Andrew are together, they post the video.Anonymous, you asked and so you shall receive ;) We hope this is what you meant.READERS: please please read with caution. There is a lot of descriptive noncon, graphic noncon, and graphic violence in this chapter, and the fic doesn’t get better from here. If this isn’t your kind of thing then kindly move along. Comments have been monitored for everyone’s wellbeing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was an anonymous request that Headbanging_Nightrunner and I kind of ran with :) sorry it took so long. 
> 
> Request: So what if, before knocking him out they gang rape a drugged Neil. Neil, drugged, can’t fight, and maybe can’t remember the whole thing except for flashes. Later, when Neil and Andrew are together, they post the video. 
> 
> Anonymous, you asked and so you shall receive ;) We hope this is what you meant. 
> 
> READERS: please please read with caution. There is a lot of descriptive noncon, graphic noncon, and graphic violence in this chapter, and the fic doesn’t get better from here. If this isn’t your kind of thing then kindly move along. Comments have been monitored for everyone’s wellbeing.

The sodas had tasted sweet but this shot was unbearably so, and the cloying taste in his tongue was not just sugar. Drugs. Andrew had drugged him. 

Neil moves to stand, to run while he still can, but Aaron and Nicky have him pinned back in a second. Andrew’s hand in his hair forces Neil to look at Andrew. 

“Just noticed, did you? You’re an idiot.”

“Y-you-“ Neil stutters. Andrew had spiked his drink. Or, rather, the bartender had done it for him. Andrew was right, He was an idiot. His mother would have beaten him for the oversight. 

“Did you think you were safe because you ordered your own drinks? Roland knows what it means when I bring outsiders here.” 

So Neil wasn’t the first. Of course not. He struggles to stand, to run, for a moment before Andrew wrenches his head so hard that Neil gets whiplash. Neil carefully stills, toeing the line that Andrew was drawing. Andrew leans forward and checks his pupils. 

“Almost there. Give it a minute and then it’ll really hit.” Neil’s head is already spinning with the drugs. “Until then, why don’t you have a little fun? The night is still young.” 

Neil takes his chance when he sees it. Andrew let’s go, and Neil lunges for him. The doppelgänger behind him topples Neil over easily. Neil is slow and unbalanced now. He takes a swing at Aaron but misses and falls again. Neil can hear his heart pounding over the sound of the bass. Neil didn’t do drugs, for this reason- they made you stupid and slow; vulnerable. He only drank infrequently to ease the pain of serious injuries, and it was not enough to raise any sort of tolerance. The drugs were hitting him hard as Aaron and Nicky lead him into the dancing fray. 

The lights and moving bodies make him nauseous. It’s too hot, too crowded and dangerous. Neil scratches at Nicky’s arms, trying to get free. His fingers are sticky with blood or sweat or spilled alcohol. Probably not blood, because Nicky draws Neil into a punishing kiss that slips more than just tongue down his throat. The same sickly sweet cloud of the drugs, mixed with the stink of vodka. 

Things get even fuzzier after that. Distantly, Neil thinks he prefers the bottom shelf whisky his mother had carried with them. 

Nicky leaves him alone in the moving sea of bodies. Twice he comes back to slip more drugs into Neil, as Neil stumbles into people trying to leave. He’s trying to find an exit but the colored lights dance around the room and Neil isn’t sure if it’s his vision or actual lights that pulse with the music. 

He feels like someone’s watching him, but he doesn’t know if it’s because of paranoia, his drug induced panic or if someone’s really after him. He feels unsettled, and the drugs are making him numb and disoriented. He wants to get away but he can’t find the exit. 

He stumbles and falls a few times, and people help him stand so he doesn’t get crushed on the sticky floor. The last pair of hands keep holding onto him. They lead him away and Neil is too fucked up to do much more than stumble along with arms on his hips and shoulders. Neil can’t tell if it’s Nicky and Aaron again, but they take him outside. The dancing strobes clear and the alley is lit poorly by the parking lot. Neil can see their faces, even if his vision is twisting and blurry. These are not Nicky and Aaron. 

They’re too tall, for one thing. Their detailed features are blurred and shadowed beyond recognition but they’re both taller than Aaron, and heavier than Nicky. One of them might be Matt’s size but it’s hard to tell with the way Neil is swaying and out of his head. 

“Who are you?” Only, it comes out sounding more like _woo-rer-ya_. 

“Man, he’s pretty fucked up ain’t he? Ya think that other kid slipped something in his drink?”

“Who cares. Makes it easier.” 

Makes what easier? Neil wonders. Were they supposed to get him? Had someone sent them? Were they with the Monsters or Nathan?

Neil attempted to struggle, to lash out with a swing of his arm, but the motion was sluggish and uncoordinated. He only managed to get lose from the men holding onto him and gave a couple of stumbling steps before he swayed precariously and tumbled face first into the gravel of the alley. 

A set of hands was soon back on his shoulders and hips, manhandling him into a standing position once again. His head is still spinning from the fall and everything else. His legs don’t want to hold his weight. 

“Don’t be like that peaches. We’re only trying to help.” The Matt-sized blurr was now facing him, taking a hand to his chin and moving the shorter man’s face around like he was appraising an animal at an auction. He gave a low, pleased whistle.

“Isn’t he something to look at? We might have hit a jackpot with this one.”

“He’s smaller than the last. Won’t cause so many bruises.” 

They put each of his arms around their shoulders. His shorter frame between them. Just two guys, supporting their shitfaced friend. A normal scene for a bar on a Friday night.

There were a couple of industrial dumpsters in the alley. They might have once been green. The stench was so deep and Neil felt so queasy, he thought he might puke. That couldn’t be good, Neil hated feeling sick, it only made his mom angry.

One of the guys noticed him gagging and hissed at him angrily “If you puke on my shoes, I’ll make you eat it. These are new”

“Quit playin’ with him. Someone could come lookin’ for him. Hurry up and get your rocks off.” 

They give Neil a shove forward. He falls in the gap between the dumpsters, a few feet wide and covered in cigarette butts; probably someone’s smoking spot, with the dumpsters to block the breeze. It smells like piss. He’s overwhelmed by the smell and everything else going on around him: the nausea, the weakness, the feeling of detachment from his own body…

Without really knowing how it happened, one of the men is looming above him, a pair of calloused hands was roaming his torso, stroking his hair, sliding down his neck. His shirt is starting to wrinkle up around his hips, and the gravel pokes into him. 

“We’re going to have some fun together, peaches.” 

A mouth made its way to his jaw, painting a line of wet saliva down this throat. He felt a small, prickling sensation where his neck joined his shoulder. Neil guessed that the bite would probably hurt a little, later on, but he couldn’t really feel it. There was a fog around him and everything was a blur of colors in different shades and sizes, moving so terribly slow…

It occurs to him that this probably weren’t his father’s men. He also realized that it still wasn’t a good thing.

“We ain’t got all night, bro,” said a voice a little distantly. “Do your thing so I can have my turn.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just make sure nobody comes ‘round.”

“S-stop,” Neil slurs. It doesn’t come out like it was supposed to, the sounds all mushed together and warbled like he’s under water. 

One of the men press a boot into Neil’s chest, keeping him down. Neil hears one of the men rummaging with something in his jacket pocket, there is a tearing sound and then some spitting off to the side. Then he recognizes the sound of a zipper being drawn down. 

The hands were at his hips now, and he felt them reaching for the button of his pants. He reacts, wanting to lash out but unable to make his body move where he wants it to. He manages an elbow to the man’s face, despite the molasses in his veins slowing him down. 

“Little fucker,” the man spits. 

He knocks the fight out of Neil with a solid punch to his face. 

“Looks like we’ve got a fighter after all,” the man standing watch mocks. “He sure don’t look it. So small and cute. Ain’t no way he’s old enough to be in there.”

“Fuck’s sake, stop mocking me and keep fuckin’ watch!”

The larger man snorts, but turns his attention back to the entrance of the alley while the other man’s full attention is back on Neil.

“Let’s get started cutie.” 

He tears the button off of Neil’s pants and pushes the jeans down to his ankles, along with his underwear. 

“Stop, fucking- don’t. Don’t, get away from me.” 

The cool air hits Neil’s flesh, making him shiver; he feebly tries to push himself away, but the pain in his head and the weakness in his body make it impossible. The drugs make him feel slow, like everything is moving too fast around him and he can’t keep up. 

“no, no,” Neil cries. Nobody is listening. 

He’s forcefully turned around so that the skin of his cheek is rubbing against the gravel of the alley. His fingers scramble to find purchase in the gravel as his world spins and twists. 

The man’s mouth is back. Nipping at his ear, and biting a path down Neil’s neck. One hand pushes his shirt up and the figure behind him gives a low whistle.

“Them are some nasty scars you got, peaches. What’ve you been up to?” 

“Please,” why does Neil’s face feel so hot? “Please don’t.” 

A hand roams his chest. Caressing scar tissue, giving a harsh pinch to a nipple, making Neil cry out, the man’s other hand travels lower, palming at Neil’s limp cock and balls. Neil tries pushing the hands away, but he’s weak. The man smacks him around a few times, until Neil is disoriented and pliant beneath him. 

Neil’s fingers begin to hurt as he claws at anything within his reach, trying to get away like some trapped prey. He’s scared. His mother isn’t here to keep him out of trouble, and Neil had stupidly ignored Matt’s warnings. He hadn’t realized what everyone was trying to tell him; he thought he could handle whatever the Monsters wanted. But now- now Neil is sick and drugged to the gills; he is concussed and he can hardly think beyond the pleading words. 

“Aww peaches, you ain’t excited? You’re breakin’ my heart.” 

“F-fuck ya,” Neil slurs weakly and the man only chuckles at his efforts.

“Yeah, that’s the whole point, cutie.”

The hand palming his balls and member gives a harsh squeeze and tugs at his dick, trying to get Neil hard with the lousy hand job, but the man soon huffs in exasperation and quickly gives up on the effort. He moves on to palm Neil’s ass. 

“Don’t touch me! Please. Stop.” Neil thought he’s been screaming, but his voice was raspy and weak, barely above a whisper. “Stop, stop…” 

“Shhh, peaches,” the man croons into Neil’s ear. 

“Shut him the fuck up, he’s going to draw attention when he starts screaming.” 

There’s a quick movement and the man shifts off of him for a moment. But then he’s back, stuffing some balled up piece of fabric into Neil’s mouth. He makes a noise around the cotton, like a high pitched whine. When he reaches to pull it out, the man grabs Neil’s wrists and twists them back. 

The man steadies himself on Neil’s back, pushing him down and stopping Neil’s feeble squirming. Clothed knees force Neil’s legs apart as something hard and hot pressed between Neil’s cheeks. The man’s cock, he thinks. He ruts against Neil’s flesh for a moment before he forces himself inside. 

“Take a deep breath, peaches,” the man mutters into his ear. 

Neil has no time to consider what that meant. The pain he feels as his hole is breached, inch by agonizing inch by another man’s dick, is worse than anything Neil had experienced in a long time. He tries to pull away from the pain, tries to force his legs to move, but this seems to just impale him further into the man’s cock. It increases the blazing agony he feels while the figure on top of him groaned in pleasure. 

The pain kicks the breath from Neil’s lungs, and he chokes on the cloth in his mouth. He can’t hear anything above the roar in his ears, his heart pounding louder than the bass inside of Eden’s. 

But when he finally manages a shaking breath, he screams. It’s muffled by the makeshift gag, long and desperate. It vents only a fraction of the pain that Neil feels. It mingles with the beat of slapping skin and the pounding bass in his head. He screams so loudly that he feels like his eyes might pop out of his head from the pressure. He screams until his throat is raw and his mouth tastes like blood. The noises subside into tiny yelps, like those of a kicked dog, timed in sync with the thrusts. He whines and chokes lowly, unable to process what’s happening.

The gravel is scraping into his chest and face, he thinks. Not that it matters. The focal point of his agony is the place where his body is joined with the grunting beast above him, who’s fucking into him with so much force, Neil fears he might be torn in half. He pukes from the pain of it, and begins to choke. 

“So tight, peaches” the man says between clenched teeth “Haven’t done this in a while, have you?”

Neil had never done anything like this at all. Not when his mother had beaten him black and blue after that one furtive kiss with the Canadian girl. But he didn’t think these men cared.

With the hand not holding Neil’s wrists, the man smacks his ass a few times. Through the drugged haze everything has taken, Neil wonders why. 

The pistoning above him became more and more erratic until, with a final deep thrust the man makes a choked noise and his hips stall. He collapses bonelessly onto his victim and lies there for several moments, panting. His breath warms the back of Neil’s neck. It smells putrid and sour in a way that not even his heavy body spray can cover. 

“That was pretty good, peaches. Best I’ve had in awhile.” The man was still inside him, and Neil could hardly breathe with all that weight crushing him. 

Thankfully, the figure only needed a moment to put himself together. There was a renewed flash of pain when he pulled out, but soon the man was pulling his pants on and walking the few steps back to his friend.

“All yours now bro, hand me the phone, I’ll do that”

“‘Bout damn time. Was getting hard just to hear you go at it,” he was complaining in hushed tones, still watchful for any unwanted attention.

“Stop bitchin’ and go have your fun so we can leave. His lil’ boyfriend from the club’s probably gonna start lookin’ for him.”

Neil pulls the gag out with difficulty. His fingers fumble like jointless sausages and moving his arms is almost impossible. 

“N-no,” Neil moans. “Please.” 

The man chuckles at him, and strokes a large palm over Neil’s ass. “You beg so pretty.” 

There was the sound of a wrapper again, and Neil expects immediate pain, like he had with the last man. Instead, he is rolled easily onto his back like a limp doll, forced to face his attacker. It didn’t really matter though, Neil’s eyes could barely make out anything at this point. He just wants them to leave. He wants to be left alone to hide in the dark. 

“Ready for round two, peaches?” The first man laughs. He’s standing watch now, Neil thinks, while his friend has a turn. Like Neil is a ride they both want to take. 

The man leaned down to push Neil’s shirt further up in order to bite and lick at his chest and nipples, and Neil tries to claw at his face. He swings at the stranger with all his might, but all he managed to land was a weak hit. He knew it was futile when all he got for his efforts was an annoyed huff and a single hand pinning both of his to the ground at the wrist. Again. Another little noise escapes Neil’s lips. 

“Behave or I’ll stop playin’ nice.” 

“Fuck you,” Neil slurs. Again. He doesn’t have the brain capacity for new insults, but this is the only way that Neil can fight back. Pathetic. 

The man does not ‘play nice’ as Neil lies there, both arms pinned above his head, shirt pulled to his neck with a man bitting savagely at his nipples. He feels cold dread pool in his stomach when he sensed the fingers prodding at his entrance. There was a dull burn as the digits entered him, oh so slowly, and Neil was gasping around the burn. 

His attacker gave a few thrusts with his fingers, scissoring him cruelly in some sick joke of a preparation. He pulls out and bends Neil’s leg at the knee with his free hand to spread him open. 

“You’re so red, might have to start calling you cherry instead.”

The taller man laughed at his own sick joke as he lined the tip of his cock with Neil’s entrance. This man was more impatient, filling Neil to the brim in a single, fast and painful thrust.

The renewed torment as this man enters him until he’s balls deep inside him, has Neil screaming. His addled senses barely register the hand that covers his throat and squeezes to muffle his cries. His back arches in agony as if it will push more distance between them. 

The man fucks into him, their chests touching as their sweat mixed together and the slap of skin against skin drowned anything else around Neil. The former lookout grabbed his thighs in a bruising grip and bit down harshly on his chest, painting blood-red flowers and mauve love bites into the skin of Neil’s chest and neck as he panted in time to the smaller man’s cries.

At some point the drugs must have taken a hard toll because Neil finds himself shifting limply with the man’s movements. There are no more feeble struggles. He closes his eyes against the pain and the tilting view that is making him sick. He simply lies there and lets the man finish. It hurts too much to fight, even if he could. Even his impaired brain goes blank like a snowy television. 

The man thrusts in a frenzied, desperate pace, panting and groaning on top of him. He whispers false praises into Neil’s ear has he punches in and out of the tight heat, until he reaches his climax with the sound of a wounded animal. He rests his head on Neil’s chest, catching his breath before pulling out. He rubs Neil’s head and stands up, zipping his pants back up and walking to his friend.

They aren’t concerned with Neil’s regression, it’s better than the screaming or the crying that would attract attention. 

“That was great. Best fuck I’ve had in awhile.”

“Same. Now let’s get the fuck outta here. It’s gettin’ late and we don’t want anyone to see us around here when they find him.”

Neil hears them laugh and joke as they walk away from him. As if what they had done was just a fun part of every weekend. He would be horrified, except everything around him was spinning and he is so tired and confused, and hurt. 

He just wants to rest a little. Just to make things stop. He can’t breathe, he can’t move. Deliriously, he thinks the men have killed him. He’s dead, and this is hell, and he is going to be left to lie between these dumpsters for eternity. 

He doesn’t know how long he lies there, afraid to move. He doesn’t hear the metal door open and slam shut some time later. Surely time has passed, but Neil is not present to witness it. His mind is elsewhere, and nowhere. 

“Neil.” 

Neil doesn’t remember if that’s his name right now. He’s used to being Alex. Is he Neil now? Do these men know his name? He doesn’t dare move. Everything hurts and even the slightest shifting of his body is too much to handle. 

Fingers touch his throat and Neil flinches away from the contact with a choked sound. Someone is screaming. Is it him? 

“Neil, look at me.” 

Effort that Neil doesn’t want to give. But someone touches his face with surprising gentleness and Neil is forced to look. Through unfocused eyes, he can almost recognize Andrew. Some part of him knows that he should be worried or furious or _something_ , but he can’t bring himself to care. 

“Andrew, I think he’s in shock.” 

Aaron then. Neil wonders why Aaron is staring at him so intently 

“He needs a hospital.” 

“No hospital,” Neil manages to task slowly. It’s reflexive, like breathing. 

Andrew/Aaron ducks out of Neil’s sight. There are people yelling; arguing, he thinks. Neil rolls to look, but the pain stops him. His legs are naked and pale, and he can see his muscles twitching and shivering. He reaches for his jeans (where did his underwear go?) but it hurts so neil stops with a gasp. 

Someone touches his hand. Nicky. He’s… he is mad at Nicky, he thinks. Or at least, he’s sure he had been mad at Nicky at some point. Nothing’s really making sense to him right now. Everything is getting blurrier and further away and less important. Neil lets himself close his eyes and drifts away into unconsciousness, forgetting the pain for a few, blessed moments.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, we urge all of you to carefully read the warnings. This fic deals with graphic rape and abuse, and victim blaming in this chapter. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion.

Once again, we urge all of you to carefully read the warnings. This fic deals with graphic rape and abuse, and victim blaming in this chapter. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. 

 

Fuck, everything hurts; It’s a full body ache, like he had been pushed from another car. Or ran over. He doesn’t bother stifling the low moan, he doesn’t feel the warmth of his mother sleeping behind him, so she must be up already. Neil wants to roll over to look and see, but everything hurts too much. He should be used to starting his days in pain now, but it never gets better. He aches deep inside… was he stabbed? He can’t remember, which is alarming. And his face hurts, his skin feels heavy and pulled tight, and he knows his cheek and lip are swollen. His head feels tender. Maybe that was why he couldn’t remember anything. He’s probably concussed again, which sucks. That would explain the sickness he feels in his stomach. 

Except, the bed was soft, and the sheets smelled like fabric softener. They couldn’t afford this kind of luxury on the run, his mother has never allowed it before.He tries to sit up in the bed, intending to look for her and ask what was happening, but his entire body cries out in protest; then he remembers. His mother is dead and has been for a while. 

So where is he and how the hell did he get here? What had happened last night?

Despite the pain, Neil rolls over to look. A strange bedroom with several stuffed animals, and birthday cards on the dresser, and- oh. Right. The cousins had taken him to Columbia. Andrew had drugged him. Nicky had kissed him. There had been lights and loud music, and then… nothing. A big blurry dark spot in Neil’s memory. He grows cold at the thought. 

He should get up and confront them, he knows. He should run before anyone notices he’s awake. But he hurts so much, he doesn’t want to move; not even to survey his injuries. There isn’t a single spot in is body that isn’t sore in some way. His throat is burning, his mouth feels like he swallowed sandpaper. He’s pretty sure even talking is going to hurt.

He lies on his side, breathing heavily through his nose, trying to manage the pain through the nausea. Thankfully there is a trash can at the edge of the bed when Neil starts to vomit. And fuck, does that make every piece of his sore body hurt. 

It brings tears to his eyes, with how much he hurts. Lower down than what he first thought, low in his stomach, in a spot between his hip bones. But it aches deeply, like a stab wound. It aches all the way up his back like a deep bruise, and it throbs with his heartbeat. His legs hurt, too; and his face. And oddly, his fingers. The tips of his nails are ripped away, leaving the tender bed exposed and scabbed over. They must have had fun beating him, Neil thinks bitterly. 

He hears voices talking in restrained whispers and the shuffling of feet. He must be on a second floor, since he hears the particular sound of shifting weight on a staircase. Whoever the hell is coming, Neil doesn’t fool himself into thinking he can put up much of a fight right now. His best hope is that he can distract the person to get the fuck out of this place, though that still leaves the question of how he’ll get back to Palmetto when he’s in so much pain.

He wants nothing more than to curl up into a ball and make himself smaller, as if that might help the pain. He hears the unknown person stop behind the door and he sees the moment when the doorknob starts to turn. The man who comes in isn’t who Neil had expected. Nicky seemed pale and shaky. His eyes are red and puffy, and he stares at Neil as if he can’t quite believe he’s there. He clears his throat and takes one hesitant step inside the room.

“Neil, you’re awake, I-” Nicky’s voice trembles. 

“Get out,” Neil hisses. And those two little words are enough to send a stabbing pain like a thousand tiny needles all the way down his throat. He’d been right. Even speaking felt awful. His voice cracks and breaks. 

Nicky chokes on whatever he was about to say next and starts crying with loud, wet sobs that leave his face blotchy.

“Oh my god, Neil, are you okay?” 

Neil felt a stab of fury. Why the fuck was Nicky crying? Nicky hadn’t been the one to get drugged and beaten up by his supposed team mates. Neil knew that Nicky most likely didn’t participate in the beating, since he couldn’t fight for shit. But he had likely just stood by and let it happen, like he did with most things related to his cousins.

“Get. Out” he repeats, not in the mood for Nicky’s bullshit. Nicky ignores him and stays rooted to his spot by the door. This only serves to fuel Neil’s temper and he struggles to try get out of the bed and away from Nicky’s presence, before he might lose his temper and swing at the older fox.

The searing, stabbing pain that shoots up Neil’s back and down his hips and legs makes him stumble and fall to the floor. Nicky cries out his name and moves to touch him, but when Nicky reaches out Neil feels a stab of dread in his gut and shoves the older man away from him.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Neil cries, ignoring the pain in his throat. “Why can’t you just go the fuck away?” 

Nicky finally seems to get the hint. He moves away from Neil and back into the threshold of the room. The noise must have drawn attention, because Andrew steps forward into the room. The smile is back on his face, so he must be back on his drugs. 

“Already causing trouble? You bounce back pretty fast, don’t you?” 

Andrew leans against the doorframe, and even though he seems nonchalant, Neil didn’t think for a second that Andrew would allow him to leave without a fight.

Neils snaps. “Had fun last night, did you? Drugging me and beating me up? Do you feel like a big man for once?” 

Behind Andrew, Nicky is crying. He has one hand covering his mouth to silent the sobs, but Neil can still hear him. The noise is making his head pound. Nicky has no right to be crying right now. 

“Shut up,” Neil snaps at him. “You were having a pretty good time kissing me last night, I don’t know why you’re crying now. Afraid Andrew will knife you for it? Don’t worry, he doesn’t give a fuck what you do.” 

Aaron pulls Nicky down the hall, out of view. The sobbing fades and Neil goes back to staring at Andrew. The smile on his face twitches and falls back into place. 

“What do you remember?” 

“Are you kidding me?” Neil snarls. “Not very fucking much, considering that you had me drugged.”

“Nicky kissed you.” It isn’t quite a question. Andrew looks like he’s trying to be serious, but the smile keeps slipping back into place. 

“Like you care. Get out of the way, I’ll find my own way back.” 

Neil has his arm on the bed, trying to lever himself up despite the sickness and pain. It tears through him, and a moan escapes. His legs buckle, but he manages to pull himself back onto the bed. 

“You were raped last night.” 

Neil freezes. He- that isn’t right. “No. That… no, you’re lying to cover your own ass. You beat the shit out of me.”

“You wish,” Andrew laughs bitterly. Neil feels his face heat up in humiliation. “We lost you in the club. We found you in the alley by the dumpsters with your jeans around your ankles. You didn’t want a hospital.” 

“I-“ Neil stops. Andrew is messing with him, right? That couldn’t happen, Neil was smarter than that. How did Andrew know that was what happened? “Shut up. You don’t know shit, Andrew.” 

“You’re in denial, how cute. I don’t lie.” 

“I don’t remember anything. I would remember something like that. And I wouldn’t go into some alley with a stranger. I’m not an idiot.”

“You did, and you are. Get used to it, your denial is boring and useless. The real question is, do you want a hospital? Do you want to file a statement with the police? You’ll have to lie about the drugs, of course. Think before you answer.” 

He doesn’t need to stop and think. A hospital would ask questions he doesn’t want to answer, and the police would ask for details neil cannot provide. “No. No cops, no doctors. I’m fine.”

“You’re insufferable. Shower, get dressed. Nicky keeps painkillers somewhere in the drawer.” 

“This is your fault,” Neil says darkly. 

Andrew leaves, closing the door behind him. Neil is reeling, and not just because of the hangover. He leans over the bed slowly, hissing from the pain inside him. Between his legs, that… made sense, he supposed. From what Andrew had told him, anyway. But his face hurts too, and his back and chest, and even his throat. He doesn’t know how to treat this like an injury, so he settles for more than the prescribed dose of painkillers and swallows them dry. 

He hobbles to the bathroom using the walls for support. The few steps to get there are a painful ordeal, but he manages to stumble his way into the room and locks the door behind him.

He peels of his clothes with slow, choppy motions. His underwear is missing, and there’s blood on his pants. The sight of his own naked skin makes his breath catch in his throat.

The whole right side of his face is red and swollen, his right cheek is bruised and crusted with dried blood from the scrapes there. Red and purple bruises litter his body from his neck to his thighs, they look like bites and finger marks. There’s also dark finger marks all around his neck, as if someone had choked him. He thinks he may remember that; not being able to breathe and the weight of another body pressing him down. 

Neil feels sick. Here’s more proof that what Andrew told him is true. He had been attacked last night. He had been raped in some dirty alley like trash. This wasn’t just Andrew fucking with him out of spite.

He doesn’t allow himself to dwell too deep in these thoughts. He tells himself he’s been in this much pain before. He’s been in way more pain before. He’s fine. He shouldn’t be getting upset about something he can’t even remember. He’s fine. 

He turns on the shower and let’s it run for a few moments while the water warms up. He gets in with some difficulty, hissing between his clenched teeth when something twists painfully deep inside him. He turns the water on as hot as he can manage and sags against the wall in hopes of relaxing his aching body. He stays until the water runs cold, because the warmth helps his hangover and his aches, and honestly the monsters can fuck themselves. Let them have cold showers, Neil couldn't care less. 

He doesn’t look at the mirror again. He dresses in the clothes someone must have left for him earlier. Jeans and a plain shirt this time. Neil is thankful for the normal clothes instead of the revealing club clothes, though these are just as tight and it hurts to wiggle his hips into them. 

When he walks into the kitchen he’s limping. Nicky tries to hand him a cup of water and Neil steps away from him. 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” 

Andrew is sitting at the table with a bag of McDonalds. Kevin is sitting beside him looking as miserable as Neil feels. Aaron is digging in the freezer and he turns when Neil yells at Nicky. 

“Nicky, don’t touch,” Andrew says around a mouthful of egg muffin. 

“Are you going to bite me if I look at those bruises?” Aaron asks Neil. In his hands is a bag of frozen peas, supposedly for Neil’s face. 

Neil bares his teeth while glaring daggers at Aaron who simply rolls his eyes and extends his hand for Neil to take the frozen bag. Neil doesn’t move, so Aaron scowls and throws it. Neil catches it and presses the cold bag to his face. There are places that hurt more, but at least he can hide those. He would rather people not gawk at his bruised face, though. It draws too much attention. 

“Eat. It helps. Drink something. There are sealed bottles in the fridge.” 

Neil limps over to the table where the bag sits beside Andrew. He tries to hide the pain from his face. He hesitates by the table and decides to lean rather than sit. No, the way he hurts, sitting isn’t an option. The ride to Palmetto is going to really suck. 

Instead of taking a sandwich from the bag, he grabs Kevin’s. It already has a bite taken out of it, but Neil doesn’t care. He doesn’t trust putting anything past Andrew. But the monster wouldn’t drug Kevin, not during breakfast. Andrew laughs at him, and Aaron scoffs before he looks away. 

Andrew starts drumming on the table when he’s done tearing his sandwich apart. He stands with a jolt. 

“We’re leaving. Come on. Neil calls shotgun.” 

Nobody argues. Kevin opens his mouth but Andrew throws something at his face before any noise can come out, and he relents. Neil sleeps on the drive. He doesn’t mean to, but he’s hurt and nauseous from the hangover and it just sort of happens. 

The ground smells like piss and wet ash, and everything feels weird. More than dream-weird. More like he is suspended in the air, but instead of touching nothing, he is touching everything. Or rather, everything is touching him. His knees hurt, his fingers hurt; his chest is weighted with pressure. Everything just feels like too much. They start touching him. Hands that squeeze his ass and move his legs. 

“Hurry up,” a voice rasps in a heavy drawl. 

Neil cringes away from the breath on the back of neck. With the nonsensical logic of a dream, Neil feels teeth on his chest, biting and bruising. 

“No,” Neil says. Nobody listens. “No, no, no.” 

He wants them to stop touching him. He knows that it’s more than one person, again with the dream logic. It’s like he can see their shadows hedging at the edge of his vision. And then something _hurts_. His whole body seizes with it, and he can’t move because it feels like Neil is being ripped in half. From the inside out, it radiates. Their grunts echo in Neil’s ears. Along with the sound of slapping flesh. And just when Neil feels like screaming, he wakes up. 

His body is still burning from the dream, he’s still scared and someone is reaching for him. There is a hand moving towards him and Neil flinches away. He slams himself back against the door and his fingers scramble on the handle and pull. He would rather throw himself from another moving car than be… be _touched_ again. 

The door doings open and someone catches his arm in a vice grip, keeping him inside. 

“Don’t touch me,” Neil screams, his eyes wide. 

Someone is yelling to pull the fuck over, and someone else is telling Neil to calm down. It takes a second to separate his nightmare from reality, but they need to fucking stop touching him. 

The car jolts to a stop and the hand lets him go, letting Neil drop back into the roadside gravel. The move makes something inside him tear, and Neil gives a cry when it hurts. 

Someone steps out of the car after him- Andrew. Neil scrambles back to right himself. His legs buckle and he stays on his hands and knees, panting and trying to ground himself. The nightmare has left him feeling unsteady, or maybe it’s the hangover. He doesn’t know. But if anyone touches him right now, he thinks something in him will just… break. 

“Don’t.” 

Neil raises a hand, as if that would stop anyone. It didn’t before, apparently. Not that Neil knows. Maybe he didn’t try to stop them, maybe he had already been unconscious when he- _stop._

He shakes his head, bidding the thoughts away. “Stop,” he says to himself. Andrew is stopped several feet away. He’s lighting a cigarette. 

Neil gags on his breakfast, and when he’s done puking Andrew slowly offers him a bottle. 

“N-no,” Neil spits. “I don’t want anything from you. Fuck off, I’ll find my own way back.”

“Spare me your dramatics. Get in the car, you’re bleeding again. When we get to Palmetto I’ll take you to Abby. Or, I guess Nicky will.” Andrew can see the spot of blood on the seat of Neil’s jeans. 

“No.” 

“Planned Parenthood then. Or have you changed your mind about the hospital?” 

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” 

“Second verse same as the first, whatever. I don’t care if you walk the rest of the way to campus, but Kevin will be upset if his new striker never returns.” Andrew lowers his voice to a mock whisper. “I doubt he’ll believe that we sent you to live on a farm upstate.” 

“Neil?” Nicky calls from the car. 

Moving hurts. It makes his knees wobble and his hands won’t quit shaking. He doesn’t think they’ve stopped since he woke up. 

“Did you get the answers you wanted?” Neil glares accusingly at Andrew. He had nearly forgotten the point of this whole thing. 

“No. But I will. You can tell me later,” Andrew waves his hand. “Tonight, when we get back to campus.”

“What’s at Planned Parenthood?” 

Andrew grins at Neil. “STD tests. Can’t lose your precious Exy. Kevin would have a stroke. On second thought, that isn’t a bad idea. Go on, try it. Let’s see.”

The realization sits in Neil’s chest like heartburn. He hadn’t considered the thought that he had been given a disease. Contracting something that couldn’t be cured would ban him from the game. AIDS or something- Neil was lacking in knowledge about the subject. But he knew he would never play Exy again if he had contracted something. 

Neil gets in the car. There’s a jacket on his seat for him to sit on so he doesn’t bleed all over the material. He breathes through the pain and can’t even relish the thought that he might be bleeding into the seat of Andrew’s expensive looking car. 

Andrew leaves Kevin and Aaron at the dorms. Nicky drops them off at the parking lot and Andrew stays until they’re actually inside the building. Then he directs Nicky to the nearest Planned Parenthood. They are few and far between, even in a college town, and Nicky had to drive them to across town to get there. Nicky stays in the car, looking on the verge of tears again. He wants to go with them, but Andrew makes him stay. He grabs Neil’s shirt fabric and pulls him along, as if afraid Neil will bolt. 

He wants to. Neil wants to run. But his duffel is in the dorms. If not for that, Neil would have run. He would have to stop and do this eventually, though. The tests are important. Neil pisses in a cup and lets the woman on duty draw his blood. She offers him help when she sees the bruises on his face, and Andrew’s unhinged smile. She urges him to see a doctor, to get professional medical help. Neil shakes her off and sits quietly, if tense, in his seat. And when she lets him leave, Neil nearly runs. 

“The veredict?” Andrew asks before they get to the car. Smart. Nicky would blab to everyone. 

“None of your business. You’re the one who drugged me, remember?” 

“I’ll tell Abby if you don’t. And coach. They’ll keep you from playing for weeks, even if your tests come back clean.” 

“You’re an asshole, this is your fault!” Neil feels like hitting Andrew. His ‘Neil Josten’ persona is supposed to be quiet and docile but Andrew makes his blood boil. 

“It’s as much my fault as it is yours. You kept secrets from me. I drugged you to get them. And your rapist took advantage. None of us saw you leave. Nobody reported it. You could have avoided all of this and given me the answers I need. Dan and her crew of merry men may think you’re trailer trash like her, but I know different. And I am still going to find out. This,” Andrew waves at Neil. “This changes nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you have a prompt please send it our way!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the ending you were expecting, but hopefully it’s good enough :)

(Career Exy start)

 

Neil hadn’t known there was a video. Not until years later. Neil had signed with the Colorado Yetis, and Andrew with the Tennessee Titans. They were further away than either of them would like, but they visited each other when they could. Even a weekend between games was enough for Neil to fly to Andrew’s apartment in Memphis. Andrew keeps complaining about the country music. 

He had been dreaming about it again. The scene that he had mostly pieced together through twisted nightmares. Of at least two men that had grabbed a drugged freshman and raped him in a filthy club alley. He still imagines the hands on him, and he can’t bring himself to even drink without Andrew there because of the irrational thoughts that if Neil were inebriated in any way, he might be attacked again. 

It had affected Andrew, too, Neil knows. More than Andrew would let on. He had all but attached himself to Neil after that, telling himself and everyone else that it was so Andrew could unravel the secrets that Neil kept close. But even after the unraveling Andrew had stayed close. 

They had started their ‘nothing’ during their second year. Neil had spent the summer in Abby’s guest room, and Andrew in Columbia. But Andrew had spent all summer thinking about Neil and hating the distance between them. So their ‘nothing’ had started to bud when they moved into Fox Tower for the next year. Aaron had gladly traded, since Katelyn would be able to visit if Aaron roomed with Matt. Neil wonders privately if things between him and Andrew would have moved quicker if Neil hadn’t been raped; if Andrew hadn’t felt whatever he felt about putting Neil in that position. Neil didn’t blame him anymore, but Andrew had felt _something_ over the incident. 

Anyway. It doesn’t matter now. Andrew loves him, and even if he doesn’t say it he shows it. 

He shows it by dropping everything and booking the first flight to Colorado. Because there is a video posted online of a young Neil Josten being fucked into the gravel between some dumpsters. Like trash. 

The thing lasts about 10 minutes in total, it’s chopped and grainy since it had been clearly recorded with a phone held by a shaky hand. Neil knows it was probably more than that, but the video has been edited so that only ‘the main action’ could be seen. His attackers faces had been blurred, but HE could clearly make out his own face even with the hair dye and colored contacts, there could be no doubt that it was him.

He wondered why? Why upload something that had happened so long ago, and why now? True, he would never forget it, the nightmares wouldn’t really go away. But they came a little less often now and he had learned to live with them and all the new boundaries and restrictions that had allowed him to feel safe again.

Andrew gets a taxi from the airport. With the video trending it isn’t smart for Neil to be in the public eye. He lets himself into Neil’s apartment. Neil’s in the kitchen with both cats on the counter sniffing his hair. His head is buried in his arms as he leans on the counter. He looks up when Andrew walks in. 

“Did you see it?” Neil’s voice is raspy as sandpaper. He sounds wrecked but he hasn’t been crying. 

“No.” Andrew wouldn’t watch something like that. He doesn’t want to. It’s sick. There’s a pregnant pause. 

“I’m suspended,” Neil starts. “I just got off the phone from coach, she isn’t letting me on court until ‘the scandal blows over’.” Neil uses his fingers to air quote her words. 

“I’ll talk to my coach. He’d piss his pants to sign you.” 

Neil sighs. “Maybe. But not yet. I’m not…. I don’t know how to deal with this,” he admits. 

Andrew walks by Neil to the window, rubbing a hand over Neil’s back as he passes. He opens the window and hops on the counter to light a cigarette. Neil snags it from his mouth. 

“Get a lawyer. These kinds of videos can be tracked to a source. And you’ll be getting a lot of bad publicity for it.”

Like the twins had after Neil’s freshman year. Andrew’s trial had been followed by a few of the Exy sport channels; not in detail, but there had been more than the twins’ fair share of accusations and slander. 

“I don’t want to do this,” Neil whispers. He moves to bury his face in Andrew’s stomach. Andrew takes the cigarette from him. 

“You don’t have to. If Alfaro won’t play you, Zhou will. You can sign with my team, or another. There are teams that would trade half their lineup for you. You have options.” 

Neil nods. He knows he has options. And he has Andrew. 

“They’ll want an interview,” Neil says. The sport reporters will have questions for him, too many to handle during a quick post-game interview. Alfaro mentioned setting something up with the press. “How am I supposed to defend myself against something I don’t remember?” 

“Fuck that. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.”

“Yeah.” Neil agrees but he sounds distant. Andrew isn’t convinced but if Neil isn’t ready to talk about it he doesn’t have to. They still haven’t really talked about the night at Eden’s. Even the first time he had gone to Columbia with the cousins, Neil hadn’t spoken about it. Andrew has offered and Neil has accepted. It just hadn’t been brought up.   
At least, not until now.

“So,” Andrew starts. He’s gazing down at Neil, a question shining clearly in his eyes.

“So?” Neil repeats, still reluctant to broach the subject.

“Are we going to address the elephant in the room then? They’ll say shit to rattle you, so you need to come to terms with what happened before they make you talk about it. You can have your breakdown now or later, but you can’t do it in front of the interviewers. Don’t give them that.” 

“I’m fine, I’ve come to terms with it. I was the one to live through what happened!”

“Except you haven’t, not really. You got tested and once the results came back negative, you pretend nothing happened, except for the times when you had a nightmare. You parroted your old ‘I’m fine’ tune and we never really discussed it. I even suggested you talking to Bee, but you didn’t want that either.”

“How would Bee have helped?!” Neil was starting to get annoyed. Andrew had come all this way to be his support, and he appreciated it, but his blunt no-nonsense approach could often be nerve-wracking and unnerving.

“Talking helps,” Andrew said nonchalantly. “So I suggest you talk; if not to me, then to someone else.”

Neil glares. “You know damn well there is no else I would trust with this, no one but you.” 

“Then tell me,” Andrew prompted calmly. He raises an arm and placing a hand at the nape of his neck, taking a strand of auburn hair between his fingers and applying the slightest bit of pressure in a comforting way. Neil forces some of the tension out of his shoulders and drops his head back down to Andrew’s stomach. 

“I don’t know where to start,” Neil admits honestly.

Andrew looked at him for a moment. Intense hazel eyes boring to him, they moved a little closer together and Neil leaned some of his weight into his boyfriends frame, thankful to slump into Andrew and let go of some of the pressure threatening to pull him under.

“Be honest with me,” Andrew demands. “Do you blame any of us for what happened?”

Neil has to think. “I used to,” he admits. “But I’m not sure how things happened. Maybe the men would have taken me anyway. Maybe- I don’t know. There’s too much ‘maybe’ for me to blame anyone but them. 

“And more than that,” Neil continues, “you said you didn’t care, and all of that. But you made it a point to never put me in a position like that again. You never left me alone at Eden’s, or Sweeties, or anywhere else we went. You didn’t let anyone mess with me, including Nicky. You talked me through panic attacks and nightmares and just- you may have been an asshole about it, but you didn’t act cruelly.” 

Andrew gives him a searching look, Neil can feel it on the back of his head. They sit in silence for a while before Neil speaks. He hasn’t moved, content to feeling safe wrapped in Andrew. 

“I don’t remember much,” Neil repeats himself. “It mostly came back later, in the nightmares. Nicky kissed me to give me more drugs, and everything was a blur. They must have dragged me from inside the club because if I had found an exit I would have ran. There were two of them; I think I remember them laughing at me.”

Andrew’s hand clenches on the back of Neil’s neck until it hurts. Neil holds Andrew’s knee, so grateful for his partner’s presence. 

“I don’t know if I fought them. It was dark and smelled like piss. And then just-“ Neil stops to swallow hard. He can feel himself squeezing Andrew’s knee too hard but Andrew doesn’t pull away. “It hurt. And then nothing. It’s all fuzzy or completely gone, everything I remember is pieces together from dreams. I don’t even know if that was what really happened or if it was my imagination.” 

“You were basically unconscious when we found you. It was obvious what had happened. We didn’t see anyone else there.” 

Neil nods. They had left him then, he thinks. “They had been gone a while before that, I think. I can’t be sure.” 

Andre takes a deep breath, the hand on his neck relaxes the slightest bit of its pressure, it is no longer painful.

“You were pissed at Nicky,” he said, a bit of hesitation managing to color his tone. “It took so long for you to even be able to look at him without trying to hit him.” 

Neil sighs. “I needed to be angry at someone, I think. And he shoved the drugs down my throat.”

Sometimes Neil wondered if it could have been different, maybe if Nicky hadn’t kissed him those guys wouldn’t have noticed him, or if he hadn’t been drugged out of his mind maybe he could have fought them off. But ‘what-ifs’ didn’t matter now. They had bigger problems. 

Andrew stays quiet for a while longer before moving to place a hand on top of one of Neil’s -the one that had been resting in the blonde’s knee.

“You know, though” He told Neil pensively “You know Nicky didn’t give you those drugs of his own volition. I needed to know if you were a threat, it was my plan.”

Neil thinks he understands what is coming next, and for the second time since the video was posted, he wonders just how much that night affected their relationship. He wonders how much Andrew didn’t tell him about his own feelings about the incident.

“I forgave you and Nicky a long time ago. You didn’t set me up to go with those men.”

Andrew didn’t comment, but seemed satisfied with Neil’s words; they always told each other the truth, after all.

“Do the others know about it?” 

Neil could imagine the other monster’s reactions when they had found him that day; Nicky had been so upset, but Aaron and Kevin had never mentioned it. The rest of the foxes didn’t know. 

“They do now.” 

Neil had figured as much, but he had still hoped. 

They stay in the rest of the day and curl in bed together when it’s over. Neil has been in his head all day, transfixed on the blurred bits of memory playing over and over. He can’t make it stop. He doesn’t know how. But Andrew curls around him, hold Neil and lets Neil hold him right back. He thinks Andrew stays awake all night, but Neil’s tired brain finally drags him to sleep. 

 

*

 

They have to turn Neil’s phone off the next morning. News stations and teammates and whoever else keep calling him, and when he doesn’t answer they start calling Andrew’s cell. Neil feels badgered and he can’t decide if it’s frightening or aggravating. After a few hours of constant ringing, the silence is deafening. 

“I’m going for a run.” If Neil stays he’ll go crazy. 

Neil throws on a hoodie that doesn’t have his team number on it and goes for a jog. He debates turning his phone on so Andrew can contact him if necessary but ultimately decides against it. He had thirty something missed calls and texts when he had turned it off, he doesn’t want to consider how big the swarm of unanswered calls and messages had grown.

He lets go, allowing his mind to wander as the strain of the exercise burns through the muscles in his legs. The feeling of suffocation eases and Neil can breathe. He goes on for a long time, passing known streets and storefronts as his feet move of his own volition, and even though each strenuous mile makes his breathing more labored, this is the most calm he’s felt since he woke up to that video.

At some point he realizes that he’s been running for several hours, the sun shining brightly above him in a clear blue sky. It had been early morning when he set out, the sky still painted in reds and oranges, so he decided to turn around and head home, because Andrew would probably get annoyed at him for staying out without his phone for such a long time.

He’s mind is a lot more settled as he approaches home, he thinks that once he gets back and after Andrew’s done nagging for leaving without a cellphone in the middle of this shitstorm, they order some take out and figure his next step together.

As his building grows nearer he notices something unexpected waiting for him. There’s someone outside his apartment building. They’re smoking a cigarette and for a moment Neil thinks it’s Andrew. But when he gets closer it’s easy to see that it isn’t. They’re too tall, for one. They stand when they see Neil coming, like they were waiting. Every instinct in Neil is wary of the stranger. 

“Hey! Hi, you’re Josten, right? Neil Josten? I’m a fan.” 

“So?” Neil tries to move past the man, but he’s blocking the steps. 

The stranger laughs. Neil doesn’t know why. 

“You’re my favorite player. Kevin Day is great and everything, but you’re much cuter. And you have quite a mouth on you, too; you’re funny. You remind me of my wife’s yorkie dog. Anyway, I saw the video that was put out- the old one? And I just had to meet you.” 

Something dark inside of Neil snaps. It’s almost audible. He can feel that dark grin stretch his lips. 

“And what made you think that would be appropriate? What about that video made you think it would be okay to approach me? You’re a fucking creep. You’ve been sitting in front of my apartment waiting for me so you could tell me that you liked the rape video that was publicly posted without my consent. Get away from me before I call the police.” 

“Easy,” the strangers says with what is supposed to be a reassuring smile, but strikes Neil as nothing but condescending. “I just thought you could use a friendly face.”

“You’re not my friend” Neil barks “Back the fuck off.”

“I just wanted to meet you, I’m sorry. No need to make it a big deal. I just wanted to talk, there’s no harm in talking to me.” 

“Are you deaf? Didn’t you just hear me? You need to leave. Right now.”

“Wait!” The stranger grabs Neil’s wrist and pulls Neil close enough to smell the man’s breath. 

Neil knocks the hand away in a defense move, and in the same moment rears his fist back and punches the man in the face. Something crunches beneath Neil’s knuckles. 

He grabs the man by the shirt and shoved him aside so Neil can pass. He runs upstairs to his apartment and locks the door behind him. 

“Fuck!” Neil yells. It comes out before he can stop it.

The wave of anger is unmanageable, and Neil whirls to punch the wall. In his peripheral he sees Andrew lean against the wall beside him, close enough to stop Neil from hurting himself but far enough that he isn’t crowding Neil. He lets Neil attack the door, the banging a bass rhythm with each hit and kick. 

Andrew watches Neil breakdown with the same unwavering gaze as always. And when Neil has bruised his knuckles and screamed himself hoarse, he slides back against the door and drops to the floor. He buries his face in his hands and Andrew sits down beside him. 

“Neil.” Andrew waits for Neil to meet his eyes. “Feel better?” 

“No,” Neil says quietly. He rubs his face and pulls at his hair. His hoodie sleeve (Andrew’s hoodie sleeve) falls down. One of Neil’s wrists is red and swelling, but not from hitting the wall. Andrew takes it slowly, allowing Neil time to pull away. He doesn’t. 

“What happened,” Andrew demands. 

“There was a ‘fan’ waiting downstairs, outside. He grabbed me and I broke his nose.” 

“He sprained your wrist,” Andrew snarls. 

Neil shrugs. He doesn’t even feel it yet. 

“Come on.” 

Andrew drags Neil to the bathroom and makes Neil take a dose of Tylenol for the swelling and pain. He sits Neil on the sink and dabs at some of the blood on Neil’s knuckles. He asks yes or no before he runs the shower and undresses then both. Andrew will never stop being amazed at Neil’s unwavering trust in him. After Neil had been raped, after his video had been made public, after he had been grabbed and injured by another man, Neil still trusts Andrew to shower with him. 

Andrew shampoos Neil’s hair and washes the blood from his knuckles. He towels Neil’s hair and wraps white bandages around Neil’s hands. There is an ace bandage that Andrew uses to wrap the sprain. 

“Robin called. She wants you to call her back but it can wait.” 

 

*

 

Neil agrees to exactly one interview with one reporter. His coach is having a hard time looking at him, as are a few of his teammates. It’s easy to tell apart the people who have seen the video. Others are looking at Neil with pity or disgust. Some avoid him, stepping away to give Neil too much space like they’re afraid to get too close. He should be used to this, after his freshman year. He isn’t. 

The interviewer is no better. She gives him a shark grin that rivals that of Kathy Ferdinand. From the moment that disgusting smile crosses her lips, Neil knows this whole thing will go to shit in some way.

“Neil Josten, I’m so glad you could be here today. Considering the circumstances,” she racks on lamely. 

“I can’t say that I’m happy to be here.” 

She blinks but moves smoothly past it. “I was quite shocked to see the video posted online. It’s clear that you were quite young, so I must ask, were those kind of parties common in Palmetto?” 

He blinks at her, frustrated but honestly not surprised that this is the approach she wants to take. Andrew had warned him that this might happen. 

“That was before I attended Palmetto, actually. It had nothing to do with the Foxes.” 

“So…” she drawls “You were a bit of the party boy then?” she puts in, trying to sound coy “Back in college?”

“No. I told you, this was before college.” 

“Then what on earth were you doing in a nightclub? Or behind it, I should say,” she giggles. 

“I’m not answering that. Actually, I’m not answering any more questions. I came here to say something. What happened to me isn’t a joke or a flashy scandal that you can use to boost your ratings. It was one of the worst nights of my life, which is impressive considering my background; And everyone is treating it like a crime drama or something. This has to stop; not just for me, but for everyone. Rapists like Brock Turner are being given leniency when they’ve ruined their victims lives. My attackers were never caught. And everyone is asking why we put ourselves in the position to be victimized.” 

“But surely, Mr. Josten, you must see how we would be interested in what a boy just out of high school would be doing at that kind of establishment just weeks before the start of their college exy career?”

Neil feels his anger redouble “Really? You would make it an underage person’s fault for being at the wrong place at the wrong time, instead of the two grown men who would prey on a young man too intoxicated to defend himself. Men who recorded their attack and waited to make it public anonymously for their 5 minutes of fame, years later.” 

“Are you going to consider promoting organizations like RAINN?” 

“Look, I’m not here to be some sort of advocate for anything. I just want to play Exy, and this scandal is putting my career on the line. I’ve said what needs to be said. And anyone who disagrees with that can honestly go fuck themselves.” 

The reporter is staring at him, gaping. Neil tears the mic and cord off of his shirt and leaves. His coach doesn’t stop him, nor do any of his teammates. But the coach and several other people find Neil in the hall not long after. 

“Josten, we need to talk about that shitshow that just happened.” 

“She was being a bitch.”

“She was doing her damn job.”

“By making me out to be some kind of crazy teenager who got what was coming to him? No matter what I say, people like her will spin my words into whatever gets them the most viewers. I’m done, no more interviews, no more statements.”

“You can’t just stop doing interviews after a scandal like this, kid,” one of the men, probably one of the publicity agents, starts. “That was a disaster. We need to spin this into a positive light. Talk about how supportive your coach is, your teammates, your friends. Fans like to see teams supporting each other in trying times like this.” 

“Support? What support? I was benched as soon as the video was released. Coach won’t even look at me. My team hasn’t talked to me in days. This isn’t support, this is ostracizing. For something that I had no control over, no memory of. And frankly, it’s bullshit. What happened six years ago doesn’t stop me from being one of the best strikers in the States.” 

“You have to understand, it looks poorly on us as a team that we would allow a player involved in a sex scandal to continue playing without clearing things up first. You are a role model to young children, remember. Parents would have us fired if we allowed you to keep playing with no repercussions or investigation.” 

Neil grinds his teeth. “You say ‘sex scandal’ like I put out a porn video. There is a monumental difference between a ‘sex scandal’ and a video of an eighteen year old getting raped in an alley.” 

The men look uncomfortable now that the words have been said aloud. Andrew had suggested that Neil call it for what it is, so nobody confused it for some lewd video Neil had actively participated in. 

“It wouldn’t have needed to ‘reflect badly on the team’, if you hadn’t issued an immediate suspension before we talked about it; If you had bothered to ask me what was behind that video. You made me look guilty in their eyes even before the questions started pouring in, and there was no support from any of you. You didn’t care, you didn’t suspect there might have been something horrendously wrong with that video, you just assumed the worst of me.” 

The men exchange a look. 

“You have to admit, it looks bad,” one of them replies.

“I’m not going to keep repeating myself. I won’t keep putting on a show in front of reporters to protect the reputation of a team that clearly doesn’t care for me as a person. Fuck you guys.” 

Neil shoves his way out of the locker room. Andrew had been right, but Neil hadn’t expected it to blow up in his face quite so much. The Foxes has always tried to support each other from outsiders, even amongst their in-house fighting. But this had been a train wreck. One that would be airing tomorrow. Andrew is waiting in the car where Neil had left him; close enough to be supportive, but far enough that he hadn’t been affected by the joke of an interview. Or the meeting afterwards. Neil had been concerned that bringing all of this up would trigger Andrew. 

Andrew drives them back to the apartment without asking questions. Maybe he had snuck in and eavesdropped, Neil didn’t know. He is still in a haze of anger and frustration. He feels like he’s hit a wall. Everything about this situation has Neil feeling cornered and observed like a bug under a scope. 

“Let’s leave,” Neil blurts. “Let’s pack what we need and just leave. Fuck the Yetis. Fuck Alfaro. If Zhou still wants me after he sees the interview, I’ll sign with the Titans.” 

“I will admit I was rather unimpressed with the interview.” So Andrew had been listening. “What did Alfaro say in the locker rooms?” 

Neil sighs. He pulls at his hair until Andrew pries it away and grasps it in his own. Andrew’s other hand has a white knuckle grip on the steering wheel, and a tic working in his otherwise passive face. But Neil recognizes the anger when he sees it. 

“Victim blaming bullshit, just like you said. How I have to face the repercussions of the ‘sex scandal’. They mentioned how bad it would look for the team, and that I’m a bad role model for children. As if any of that affects my playing. Then there was the part of how I should let the news know how supportive and understanding my team was in such trying times for me; you know, protect the good name and all.” Neil is quiet for a moment, trying not to be hurt at the betrayal he feels from the teammates he had considered friends. “They didn’t even want to speak to me.” 

“I’ll talk to Zhou. You’re coming to Tennessee with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank all of you for reading and commenting!! Runner and I had a hell of a time finishing this, and we hope you enjoyed :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter from Andrew POV! We loved this request, it was fun to write :) 
> 
> Mentions of past abuse

Andrew wasn’t sure when exactly Neil had officially gone missing. The withdrawal mixed with the drugs and alcohol made his brain weird, and he had been blowing Roland in the break room behind the bar anyway. He had left Nicky and Aaron in charge of babysitting, unwilling to venture into the crowd himself. It was supposed to be easy; drug the suspicious little shit, unlock his tragic backstory and, more importantly, find out exactly what was setting off all of Andrew’s warning bells. 

Except now Nicky is frantic and none of them can find Neil. Aaron and Nicky weave through the dance floor while Andrew stands on the upper level overlooking the crowd. Neil had been pretty easy to watch, earlier. Pathetic, too. He had been falling all over the place, unable to walk because the drugs hit him so hard. The kid was a lightweight. At least Andrew wouldn’t have to worry about Aaron being tempted by another drug addict. But Andrew doesn’t see any ripples in the sea of people below. 

Andrew goes to check the bathroom. He has to shove his way through the crowd. He spills drinks on people’s shirts and they shout at him, but Andrew couldn’t care less. He has placed to be, and a lost little lamb to find. 

There’s no window for Neil to have climbed through, and nobody that leaves the stalls even resembles Neil. He might be passed out somewhere by now. 

The only people in the breakroom are a straight couple making out in a corner that Andrew will never touch again, and some dude napping on the couch. Not Neil. 

Andrew shoulders his way back to the bar. It takes Roland only a moment to see him and walk over. He offers Andrew a white smile. 

“Interested in round two?” 

“Shut up. Nicky lost the new kid, have you seen him?”

Roland shakes his head. “Nope, sorry. If he’s not in the back he could be taking a piss in the alley or something. Smoke break, hookup, you know.” 

Right. He should have thought of that but his brain is buzzing unpleasantly while the whisky and crackers battle withdrawal symptoms. Andrew finds Aaron replacing his spot in the overlook. He scowls when he sees Andrew. 

“Nicky’s still looking but he obviously isn’t here.”

“Was the alley checked?”

“No. Let’s grab Nicky too.”

They’ll leave if Neil isn’t found soon. Andrew isn’t going to stick around wasting time when it’s obvious the rabbit has run. Let Wymack deal with the missing fox. If he’s smart, he’ll stay gone. Andrew doesn’t need the extra trouble that Neil is already proving to be. 

He and Aaron eventually find Nicky, who is even more agitated by now.

“I can’t find him,” Nicky yells over the music. “I already looked everywhere and he’s not here. Oh god, Wymack is going to kill us.” 

Andrew glares at his cousin “Nicky, calm the fuck down. He’s probably puking his guts out in the alley.” 

They move as fast as possible through the crowd and towards the back door, moving into the alley together. At first they didn’t notice anything amiss, the alley seemed to be empty; nothing but old crates, empty bottles and trash- a lot of trash. 

Andrew is annoyed with the flighty little rabbit. Wymack won’t be pleased, but it’s better that Neil is gone. It’s less work for Andrew, anyway. He turns around and hisses at Nicky and Aaron to move along when he hears a faint, labored breath coming from the dumpsters, so low he had almost missed it. Shadowed in the gap between the dumpers is Neil. 

He’s conscious. Barely. He’s staring blankly to one side and then turns towards them when they approach, his eyes are vacant and lost, probably due to the drugs.

Nicky wails behind him, looking at the awful state Neil’s in. His pants are pulled down, pooling around his ankles and tangled on his shoes. His shirt is pushed up his chest, displaying the visible bruises and bites scattered all around Neil’s torso and neck. There are numerous scars that cover Neil’s body, old ones that have healed and stretched with age. Some are newer, but none as fresh as the bleeding bites and hickeys. 

“Neil,” Andrew calls, but gets no reaction other than the same blank stare. Neil’s chest is moving. He’s breathing. He’s shaking so badly Andrew can see it, full-bodied shivers that rack him from head to toe. 

Andrew tries again. “Neil, look at me.”

And again, nothing. Aaron walks past him, stepping close to Neil, placing a hand on the Neil’s face and neck. He knew enough to understand that his brother was checking for Neil’s pupils and vitals.

“Andrew, I think he’s in shock.”

Yes, Andrew could have guessed that much, and he wasn’t a premed student. His brother was still kneeled by Neil’s unresponsive body when he turned to look at him.

“He needs a hospital,” Aaron declares promptly.

That gets a response from the shell-shocked fox.

“No hospital,” Neil chokes out, his voice so low and slurred, it’s very difficult to understand what he’s trying to say, but Andrew can at least understand ‘no’. 

He turns to the others. “Someone get the car. We’re taking him home.” 

Nicky and Kevin stare at him like he’s suddenly declared his undying love to Exy. And then the arguing starts.

“You can’t be serious.” Kevin hisses. “He needs medical attention!”

“They have to run a rape kit, before it’s too late to report it!” Nicky seems about three seconds away from full-on sobbing.

They continue fighting back and forth, Nicky and Kevin insisting on the hospital, Andrew brusquely reminding them that Neil had said ‘no’ to going there, it was a stupid choice, but it was what he wanted. Neil should get to decide that, at least, given tonight’s recent events. 

A pained gasp calls their attention back to Neil. His arms are moving weakly, seemingly to try and push his pants up, but his strength seems to fail him before he can manage it. Nicky is suddenly next to Neil, squeezing the other’s hand gently while trying to get his clothes back on with his remaining free hand. Andrew almost warns his cousin against touching Neil without explicit permission, but the freshman was too out of it to react and seemed to reach the limit of his endurance at some point during Nicky’s fussing. He’s passed out with a wheezing little noise. 

Kevin carries Neil to the car. Andrew grounds himself on the sound of him bitching about hospitals and internal bleeding and whatever else; Andrew can’t get the sight of Neil out of his head. It’s triggering an onslaught of memories that Andrew would carve out of his brain with an ice cream scoop if he could. 

Andrew tells himself it isn’t his fault, because if he lets himself believe that he had a hand in this, he will kill himself. He can’t compare himself to his own attackers. Andrew knows that the cycle of abuse often repeats itself, victims becoming abusers, and Andrew can’t unravel what little progress he has made in making himself better than that. 

He had drugged Neil for answers. Andrew had done what he had to in order to protect his own. He refused to apologize or regret that. But he keeps seeing too much pale skin and blood where there shouldn’t be. It’s making his arms itch. 

If Neil stays, Andrew promises himself, this mistake will not be made twice. Neil will be protected. If he stays, he will have to become one of Andrew’s. 

 

**********

 

Andrew hates college parties for a reason. The pop music sucks and there’s too much light. He’s only here because of Neil. Neil, who refuses to go to Eden’s, had invited Nicky and Aaron to a party with the Vixens and the rest of the Foxes. Kevin didn’t care where he was, as long as he had alcohol. And where his wards go, Andrew follows. Like herding stray cats. 

Which is why Andrew is standing in a corner drinking whiskey from a plastic cup and listening to Katy Perry. Kevin is talking with one of the Vixens, arguing about something history related. Aaron is across the room, unsuccessfully hiding with the blonde he’s been trailing after for so long. Nicky is dancing with a group of girls, and bouncing to the music. He reminds Andrew of a jack-in-the-box. Neil is talking to another Vixen, a blonde with tight jeans and a low cut shirt. He looks uncomfortable but not afraid. 

Unable to stand the music and the people, Andrew sneaks outside to smoke. He has a headache growing from the party, but it’s nothing like his withdrawal symptoms, so it’s manageable. 

It was no wonder Neil had the attention of most of the people inside. Someone had dressed the idiot up in something other than those threadbare jeans and baggy shirts. He dresses in layers now, Andrew knows. Black t-shirts beneath other shirts, beneath jackets. Andrew suspects Neil wears shorts beneath his jeans too, but he always undressed in private, behind locked doors. 

Not tonight though. No, tonight Neil was dressed in tight black jeans that didn’t have room to accommodate an extra layer beneath; and a long grey Henley. He looked stupidly good in it, too. Not that the idiot knew. In fact, he spent most of his time hiding from anyone who’s gaze Neil had deemed too predatory. Luckily he seemed to find Andrew’s staring reassuring and protective. 

Andrew wonders what Neil would do if he knew what Andrew was thinking when he was staring; if he knew that Andrew was mesmerized by the red hair and blue eyes, and counting Neil’s freckles. He would probably run. He probably should. 

Snuffing his cigarette out on the step, Andrew rises and returns inside. He can’t be gone too long or either Kevin or Neil would come looking for him. That’s happened before. Sometimes Neil finds Andrew on the roof in the middle of the night; sometimes Neil beats him there. Neil doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. Andrew already knows how someone’s tortured mind can play tricks on them when they're vulnerable in sleep. 

Once he’s back at the party, he notices the awkward scene playing out in front of him. The blonde Vixen from before was hovering closer to Neil, she was leaning into him and smiling, batting her eyelashes in a way that pretended to be shy, while holding an obvious invitation. Neil didn’t seem to understand it though, since he just stood there, a bit hunch into himself, trying to put some distance between them while staying polite. The vixen raised a hand and placed it on Neil’s arm, sending a flirty smile his way.

Neil flinched away from her and stepped back, cornering himself against the wall, the blonde woman’s face soured, but she recovered quickly and smiled as if she understood.

“Aww, you’re shy! That’s so cute!” the girl went to take his hand this time, and he pulled away more forcefully.

“Don’t,” he said, looking at the girl in discomfort. Neil scanned the room diligently and when their eyes met, Andrew was immediately able to read the question beneath that cool blue stare.

‘A little help?’ Neil’s eyes pleaded. Andrew didn’t let himself linger too much in what that show of trust did to his chest, he rolled his eyes and walked to the flighty little fox.

As he stepped closer, he heard the girl still trying to tease and flirt her way into Neil’s interest, she tried to compliment his looks and how adorable it was that he was so short, but every compliment just made Neil look more and more uncomfortable, though his shoulder seemed to relax a bit when he noticed Andrew’s approach.

Andrew moved next to Neil and took a hand to the redhead’s neck, squeezing the nape slightly and feeling Neil lean into the touch for a short moment.

Andrew turns slightly so he can look at the vixen straight in the eye.

“He’s a lost cause, move along.”

She raised a perfectly plucked blonde eyebrow, but then there was a spark of understanding in her clear gray eyes. 

“Oh My Gosh gotcha! A girl can dream, right? You do you, guys! Sorry Neil!” she smiled good naturedly and walked away with a cheery call of ‘Go Foxes’ leaving behind an utterly confused Neil.

“What the hell just happened?” The redhead wondered.

“Fuck if I know” Andrew said turning towards Neil “So?” he asked

Neil stared back at him “So?” 

“Blonde, perky and clueless not your type?

Neil snorted “I don’t mind blondes but she was a bit… much.”

 

**********

 

Neil looks ready to run, and Andrew is oscillating between annoyance and anger. Annoyance because Neil is tensed like he expects to be thrown to the wolves; he’s mapping the exits and eyeing the crowds and bartenders with suspicion and outright fear. 

Andrew sends the group to find a table but Neil still follows him to the bar. He’s afraid to leave Andrew. At some point, Andrew has become a safe haven and it’s even more annoying that he doesn’t know when that had started. 

They make their way to the bar, Andrew shouldering their way through. Neil stands as close as possible, taking advantage of the small bubble of space Andrew’s vicious glaring provides them. Someone steps too close to Neil, and Neil steps back until his back is flush with Andrew’s chest. Hence the anger. 

“Sorry,” Neil lilts his voice to be heard above the music. He looks close to a panic attack. 

“We can leave.”

Neil shakes his head. He half-turns to look at Andrew. They’ve moved up a few steps and Neil can keep his back protected by the bar. Andrew brackets him in with an arm on each side, effectively keeping strangers from sidling up beside Neil. 

“The others were looking forward to this. I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t owe them anything.” 

Neil frowns and opens his mouth, probably to argue. 

“Welcome back! It’s good to see you, Andrew.” Rolland is there, his hands already pouring drinks on a tray for them. “How many tonight?”

“Five.” 

“You picked up another stray?” Rolland gives Neil a slow once-over. 

“I’ve been here before. You drugged me,” Neil all but spits in Rolland’s face. 

Andrew watches Neil’s face pinken with fury, and Rolland’s pale with understanding. At least if Neil was angry, he wasn’t afraid. Rolland can defend himself. 

“Shit. Listen, I heard about what happened that night,” Rolland says. Neil steps back, pressing against Andrew. “And I just want to say that won’t happen again. This is actually a pretty safe place.” 

Neil moves to run and Andrew stops him. He isn’t letting the idiot out of arm's reach, not here. Not again. They leave the drinks at the bar for Aaron to pick up, and Andrew drags Neil to the table. Neil sits heavily and curls into himself. 

“Where’s the drinks?” Kevin asks, looking confused. He looks at Neil and his confusion magnifies. “You okay?” 

Neil nods, allowing Kevin to hover over him without complains. “I’m fine, really. Sorry about the drinks.” 

“Forget about the drinks, we can pick up a bottle somewhere if you want to go back to the house,” Kevin offers with genuine concern. 

“We should stay. We’re already here, anyway.” 

Kevin studies Neil for a moment longer. He glances toward the direction of the bar, where Aaron had gone, and back to Neil. 

“If you want to drink, I’ll stay sober tonight. This must be stressful for you.” His words are jilted but the offer is sincere. 

Andrew studies the scene before him, as Neil gapes at Kevin’s offer. Then Neil shakes his head. 

“No. Thank you, but no.”

Andrew had assumed as much. Neil had brought his own water bottle, still sealed, from the dorms. 

Aaron returns with an overfilled tray of drinks and a sealed bottle of soda. The latter was a surprise, considering Eden’s only served in glasses. But Andrew didn’t question it, and Neil accepted it after very carefully checking the bottle for signs of tampering. 

Kevin gives Neil one last searching look before he takes a shot from the tray. Nicky and Aaron escape onto the dance floor when they’ve had their fill of alcohol. Andrew pulls his seat closer to Neil and nurses a class of whiskey. He’s close enough to feel Neil’s leg bouncing under the table. The little rabbit is fighting his instincts to run from a place that he associates with pain. 

It gives Andrew an excuse to stare. He can tell himself that he’s making sure Neil isn’t running for the nearest exit or having a panic; but he’s watching the lights play on Neil’s face. The new auburn reflects the light in new ways that the black never had. 

 

**********

 

The roof is Neil’s safe space. Andrew finds him there often. But since this is the vacation cabin with a sharp sloping roof and not Palmetto, Andrew checks the next closest thing. There is a balcony in the other side of the house, away from the Foxes and the hot tub, and the light of the fairy lights and fire. 

It’s the middle of the night and Andrew can’t sleep. The team is still partying strong but Andrew just wants some quiet. Neil is always good company, so Andrew had gone searching. He shoves down the intruding thoughts that suggest Andrew might be worried that Neil has disappeared again; bag left and body missing. 

He heads to the quiet seclusion of the balcony, armed with a jacket and a pack of cigarettes. He isn’t surprised to find Neil there, legs dangling off the ledge and the rest of him flat on the ground. Andrew pauses in the doorway and watches to make sure Neil isn’t going to jump off. But it looks like he’s asleep. The fucking idiot is asleep, halfway dangling from the ledge. At least there’s a railing. 

Andrew has to be careful to wake Neil gently, so he doesn’t flinch and panic. It would be a long drop if Neil tried to jump to escape, or something equally stupid. Neil thinks it wouldn’t kill him, but Andrew isn’t as sure. Besides, there are worse things than death. Example: being injured and unable to defend yourself. That would be much worse than a quick death, for people like them. 

The soles of Andrew’s shoes scuff on the floor. He flicks his lighter a few times just to hear the click. He watched the moment when Neil’s breathing hitched as he wakes. He tended in the same breath and Andrew speaks so Neil knows that it’s just him. There is no threat here. Not really. 

“Your survival instincts are terrible.” 

Neil sits up and rubs his eyes. He’s been laying down for long enough that his hair is flat against the back of his head. He yawns. 

“I fell asleep,” Neil mumbles and stretches. 

“I should throw you off the edge and save everyone the trouble of mourning later,” Andrew mumbles around a breath of smoke. 

“I’d take you down with me.”

Andrew sits next to Neil, close enough to shove the handsome idiot over the rail if he becomes insufferable. He offers his cigarette to Neil and lights his own. 

They smoke in silence, Neil yawning and running his hands through the tangles in his hair. He winces when his bandaged fingers ache. Idiot. 

“Go to bed.” Andrew says, putting his pack of cigarettes away when Neil makes to take another one.

“It’s fine. I’m not sleepy anymore.”

Andrew glares at him. “Keep parroting that same excuse for everything. I’ll gladly throw you off the edge; two stories is enough to jostle that pea-sized brain of yours.”

“You wouldn’t really let me fall.” 

Andrew raises an eyebrow “You’re so sure? One less pain in the ass.”

“But then you’ll have one less person to put up with your psychotic ass. And there’s already so few of us, can you really afford that?”

“I think I’ll manage.” Andrew replies dryly.

“So you say. I still trust you not to let me crack my skull open.”

Andrew felt his stomach roll at the words and refused to acknowledge what they meant.

“Shut up,” Andrew tells him.

“Then make me.” 

There is nothing more that Andrew wants than to shut Neil up. To just kill the pest and be done with it. It would be easier. It would be the smart thing to do.

But Neil scoots closer to Andrew, close to touching but not. His bandages glow in the dark and they have to be hurting, but Neil is here, and he is safe; Andrew hates that he can’t shake this attraction. He thought it would be fine with the euphoria of the drugs. But it’s been months, and Neil is still just as clever and sharp and cursedly attractive as always. 

It hasn’t even been a year since Neil was raped at Eden’s. It’s been months since Drake and Easthaven and Proust. Andrew shouldn’t be letting himself feel this way. It’s too much, too soon. For both of them. And yet. 

“Don’t make offers you don’t mean,” Andrew breathes around his cigarette. 

“Offers?” Neil is confused. 

“Exactly.” The oblivious fool doesn’t have a clue what he does to Andrew. It sounds like an offer, but it isn’t. It’s infuriating. 

“You can kiss me if you want.” 

It is said so quietly that the words nearly float away on the breeze. But Andrew hears them. And he fucking hates them. 

“Be careful who you offer that to. You’ve already made more than your fair share of mistakes.” 

Neil is staring at him. “I know who I’m offering it to. You’re not-“ Neil pauses. “You won’t do anything I don’t want. I trust you.” 

“If _I_ want,” Andrew scoffs. “I want a bottle of ‘64 Glenliver. I want you to stop being so obtuse. What I want doesn’t matter, Neil. What do you want?” 

“I want you to kiss me.”

 

**********

 

It was the weekend, so that meant Columbia. 

On friday, they do their usual routine. They go to Sweeties for food and crackers before heading for Eden’s as usual. Neil does not take any crackers and he hardly even drinks any alcohol, gluing himself to Andrew’s side.

The monster don't mind, they are used to it by now and since Neil is making progress and doesn’t seem all that bothered anymore, but he will obviously never be able to trust Eden’s enough to put his guard down, and Andrew understands the hesitation. He will keep Neil safe, and he will stay beside him when he doesn’t feel safe.

The others dance and drink until it’s almost closing time and then pile themselves into the Maserati to go to their Columbia house.

Aaron, Kevin and Nicky had to sleep in until late, and once awake they started bitching about their hangovers and make promises to never drink that much again; promises they will gladly break next week. None of them find any compassion from Andrew and Neil. They decide to head out for a very late breakfast and to do some shopping, which is how Andrew and Neil find themselves alone in the house.

They are sitting on the couch with the T.V. on. Andrew is imposing another one of his infamous ‘pop-culture’ marathons since Neil is apparently still too ignorant of mainstream media for the monsters liking. This time it’s something with spaceships and the word star in the title, but Neil doesn’t have much clue beyond that. He scoots closer to Andrew and leans his head against the blonde’s shoulder.

“How many movies are there for this thing?” He asks mid-yawn. He didn’t get that great a sleep either; Eden’s still gives him nightmares sometimes, and yesterday was no exception.

Andrew sighs “We haven’t even made it to the movies yet, this is still the tv show.” 

“I don’t think I’m into this Star Trip thing.”

“It’s Star Trek, you dumb fox.”

“It just seems so unrealistic,” Neil says.

“That’s the whole point of science fiction.”

They keep bickering for a while, arguing about all the movies and shows Neil still hasn’t watched, and the few that he has been forced to watch, but finds silly anyway.

“You’re a terrible judge of good content,” Andrew says, turning to him.

“It’s not a terrible show, but there’s other things we could be doing with this alone time.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow, surprised at Neil’s rare show of boldness. He let’s the fingers of his left hand slide through strands of auburn hair. Neil leans into the contact and utters a small, breathy sigh.

“Yes or No?” Andrew asks, never taking for granted Neil’s ‘it’s always yes with you’ speech. 

Neil smiles. “Yes.”

It starts slow, as things usually do with them; a brush of lips before they deepen the kiss, tongues and teeth crashing with their increasing passion. Andrew places a hand at Neil’s hip, and the redhead whispers a soft ‘yes’ in encouragement. Andrew lets his hands wander over Neil’s body, down his arms and hips, settling on one of the redhead’s thighs.

Neil is panting, one hand placed on Andrew’s shoulder while the other plays with blonde hair. Between moans, Neil kisses and gives small bites to Andrew’s neck. He wants to leave marks but Andrew hasn’t given him permission. 

“I’ve told you,” Andrew says in a strained voice. “Your neck thing isn’t attractive.”

Neil’s tongue makes a path down the side of Andrew’s neck while he uses one of his thighs to push them closer together. “I’ll stop doing it when you stop liking it.”

Andrew glares at him but is easily distracted by Neil’s persistent touch. In the back of his mind, he remembers that Nicky, Aaron and Kevin left a while ago and will probably come back soon, while they are quite obviously in a compromising situation in the living room. He bites lightly at Neil’s earlobe and then leans down to whisper in his ear.

“Stop teasing. We don’t have all night, Neil.” 

He feels Neil stiffen beneath him. The hand in Andrew’s hair suddenly falls away to push at Andrew’s chest. Andrew pulls away, readily giving Neil the space he so obviously needs. 

Neil moves his head to the side, away from the searing lips that he had kissed so eagerly moments before. Andrew tries to soothe his partner with a hand on Neil’s neck but Neil flinches away from him.

“No! Don’t.”

Neil’s whole body shakes slightly and his face is pale. His eyes are pinched closed and he hunches over himself, leaning as far away from Andrew as the couch will allow. 

Andrew watches helplessly as Neil curls on himself, knees to his chest. His fingers are ripping his own hair out. 

Andrew understands that something must have triggered Neil, but they had been doing a few things at once, so he isn’t sure what to do to help him. Andrew tries to talk Neil through his panic attack without touching him, because the redhead clearly can’t stand it at the moment. 

“Breathe,” Andrew commands with a low and clear voice. 

His words aren’t registering. Neil’s eyes are clenched closed. He isn’t breathing, his face is slowly turning red. Andrew tries again, more firmly, always mindful of the space Neil puts between them.

“Neil, breathe. It’s just us here, just you and me. You are safe here.” 

Eventually, his words get through to Neil and his breathing evens out, he looks up straight into Andrew’s hazel eyes.

“I-I’m sorry” he stutters, his voice still sounds weak. “I know I said yes...but I-I can’t.”

“Stop.” Andrew hisses, leaning slightly towards him. “Never apologize to me for changing your mind. You can always change your mind, you always have the right to say no.” 

Andrew is fierce and adamant. He needs Neil to understand that a yes does not always have to remain a yes, especially for them, after everything they’ve been through. Neil has to understand that it’s ok to break down sometimes. 

The redhead nods stiffly and lets his arm glide across the couch to entwine their fingers, needing the reassurance of Andrew’s presence but still not quite ready for full contact. 

They stay like that for some time, facing each other, fingers entwined, until Neil is ready to lean forward and press his forehead against Andrew’s shoulder with a soft sigh. 

Andrew wants to ask what it was that brought on this panic attack, but he’s not sure he wants to hear it. He is also not sure Neil himself even understands it, when he can’t really remember what happened to him. It’s like wading into landmines. 

In the end, he doesn’t need to ask, since it’s Neil himself who tells him. His words are stalled and unsure. To Neil, it’s like reciting a dream he can only vaguely remember. 

“What you said,” he shudders. “About not having all night...they said something like that...I think.”

Andrew winces. He tries not to think back to that night and the guilt he had beaten back with all his strength. He would never willingly do anything those people would. But when a subconscious trigger surfaces like that, it is tough to fight the guilt.

He had stepped on a land mine, but now he knew better, and would make sure to never say those words again. 

After, when Neil spread his arms wide and asks ‘yes or no?’ Andrew gives him a questioning look before saying ‘yes’. Neil hugs his shoulders and then leans in for a small chaste kiss.

Andrew doesn’t apologize, but he shows he cares in the best way he can. In the small kisses and gentle caresses they share, in the way he allows Neil to collapse half atop him the couch. He let’s Neil choose dinner and switch the tv to an Exy match, and when the others make it home he gives them a sharp look that warns them not to intervene. Later they both go into their room together, where they change into sweats before getting under the covers, Andrew with his back to the wall and Neil’s head resting on the crook of his neck. 

As they drifted off to sleep, Andrew thought that this wouldn’t be the last of their bad days, but they would always try to make it work.

 

**********

 

He finds it on tumblr before it hits the news. The Neil Josten search usually turns up fan photos of Neil at games or out in public. Sometimes there are edits of Matt with Neil, or Neil with Kevin or one of his teammates; Exy mood boards are common. It helps keep Andrew from missing Neil too much when he doesn’t have time to call his boyfriend, or when he knows Neil is in practice. 

This is a smack to the face. There are screenshots of a video posted, showcasing Neil with his pants down and his shirt up. His scars are on display, as are the hickeys and bite marks. Neil is younger in the photos. He looks pinched and half starved, his eyes brown and his hair black. They are obviously from Neil’s freshman year at Palmetto. There’s a ‘Property of Eden’s Twilight’ sign painted in the background. 

It’s disgusting. It’s more than disgusting it’s… Andrew doesn’t have a word for what this is. It’s infuriating and invasive and Andrew debates throwing his phone against the wall just so he doesn’t have to look at it anymore. Except now the image is burned into his mind. He had seen Neil afterwards, of course. They all had. But he hadn’t seen Neil with hands around his throat, with a fat man heaving over him. 

Breaking his phone won’t do any good. It doesn’t stop him from throwing a lamp against the floor, followed by the dishes. And then the table. And every other goddamn thing in the apartment that will break in Andrew’s hands. 

And when the apartment is trashed and Andrew’s hands are bleeding from putting his fist through the plaster of the kitchen wall, he picks his phone up off of the bed. His hands are shaking as he orders a plane ticket to Colorado. And then he works his way down the feet meticulously reporting every single photo and video clip. 

He packs light, throwing clothes in a bag at random. He probably has clothes at Neil’s. He knows he left sweatpants and shirts there. Neil loves stealing Andrew’s clothes. But packing allows him to keep throwing things, even if they don’t break. It keeps his hands busy. A few shirts rip when Andrew tears them off of the hangers, but he can guy new ones. 

When the packing is done, Andrew cleans the mess he made. Glass shards cut his hands but they’re bleeding anyway so it hardly matters. 

The apartment is cleaned, his bag is packed and Andrew is still furious. His phone is the casualty this time. It’s chirping texts and calls from everyone Andrew knows, and driving him up the wall. It’s not Andrew they should be concerned about. Neil is the one who was hurt. Neil is the one who’s rape had apparently been fucking recorded and posted online for the world to see. 

He remembers the wreck Neil had become the few rare times that he had allowed Andrew to see him unravel. After nightmares, hours had been spent on the roof. There had been the near-panic at Eden’s; the time Andrew had triggered Neil when they were fooling around. He doesn’t want to imagine the mess neil must be right now. If the rabbit hasn’t run his feet down to nubs by the time Andrew gets there it will be a miracle. 

His flight can’t be quick enough. Andrew is sure to bully his way to an aisle seat, and then he has nothing to do but wait. The two girls next to him are eying the bandages on his hands and he hates every second that they’re in the air. But Neil needs him, and this is too important to waste time driving. 

It isn’t as bad as Andrew suspected. Neil is strong st the kitchen counter when Andrew lets himself in. His head is buried in his arms. He’s been crying, even if he isn’t now. Neil’s eyes are red and tired. His hands are shaking. 

He’s been benched, and Andrew isn’t surprised. Of course this is being spinned as an out of control college athlete with some sort of drinking problem. The implication that Neil had wanted or deserved what had happened was disturbing. It was supposedly easier to blame Neil than it was for them to explain the truth. 

And speaking of truth. 

“Do you blame any of us for what happened?” They all shared the blame, of course. Andrew has come to terms with that now; he had the epiphany some time shortly after Drake had Andrew pinned to the mattress. 

Most of the blame was set on the men who had hurt them. But Neil had wandered off, just like Andrew had agreed to going to ‘visit the family’; and Andrew had drugged Neil, like Neil had talked Andrew into going to Luther’s. It’s everyone’s fault. 

“I used to,” Neil says slowly. He’s watching Andrew carefully. Neil talks like he has a speech prepared. He’s as unapologetic as always, and Andrew will never stop appreciating Neil’s bluntness. 

Neil buried his face in Andrew’s stomach as he talks. Andrew runs his hand through Neil’s hair and clasps the back of his neck to keep Neil from spiraling. It hurts to watch Neil fracture over this. Neil had overcome murder attempts, kidnapping and torture, and a goddamn mob war. But being benched from his beloved Exy had him shaken. Andrew knew Neil was worried about the Moriyamas.

They turned their phones off and ignored the sports channels on the television. They secluded themselves in the quiet of the apartment, and Neil lets Andrew hold him when they nap. 

They manage more than twenty four hours before Neil gets stir crazy. Andrew should have put a treadmill on the apartment. He puts on one of Andrew’s plain hoodies as some shitty sort of disguise, as if the scars aren’t a dead giveaway. How Neil survived on the run, Andrew will never know. He could be so fucking smart sometimes but others, it was astounding how oblivious Neil could be. 

Andrew settles down with the cats and some snacks to catch up on what the news is saying about Neil. When he’s had enough (too much, really) of the victim blaming, Andrew turns it off. He turns their phones on. Neil has missed calls from team members and coaches and everyone else. Matt and Dan, and Robin too. Robin calls again when Andrew is looking at his own missed messages. He tells her Neil will call her back after things have settled. 

The door is still unlocked from Neil’s departure, and it slams when Neil comes running in. His face is splotches red from the exertion. 

“Fuck!” Neil is yelling. He whirls and punches the door. 

When he doesn’t stop, Andrew comes closer. He won’t stop neil from self destructing, not when Andrew’s own hands were still bleeding and bandaged from his own breakdown. 

Instead, Andrew waits on the sidelines, ready to intervene when Neil is ready. 

Neil screams himself hoarse. The neighbors are probably concerned but that’s not their problem unless the police come knocking at the door. His knuckles are swollen and bleeding when he’s done. There are streaks of blood on the door. Neil puts his back to the door and slides down. He looks defeated as he crumpled to the floor like something tired and weak. 

Andrew sits down beside him.

“Neil,” Andrew calls softly. He waits until he knows he has Neil’s attention. He looks stressed and flighty. “Feel better?” 

Tantrums weren’t really Neil’s thing, but Andrew supposed everyone had their breaking point. This was Neil’s. 

“No.” 

Neil rubs at his face, and the sleeve of Andrew’s hoodie slips down. One of Neil’s wrists is red and well on its way to bruising. It’s swollen. Sprained. 

“What happened.” That wasn’t an injury from tripping on a run; Neil’s palms aren’t skinned, and his pants aren’t dirty or scuffed. 

“There was a fan downstairs.” Andrew’s blood freezes. “Outside. He grabbed me and I broke his nose.” 

Fuck. Neil had goddamn stalkers now. There were people who knew where Neil lived, who had waited for him to be alone and had physically attacked him. This can’t keep happening. Neil isn’t helpless, and he’s proved it again today. But Neil should not have to defend himself against crazed sickos. _Fans_. Perverts, more like. 

Well. Regardless of how Andrew feels, he can’t do anything about that right now. He has done what he can, offering Neil a position with the Titans. Andrew’s coach would love to have Neil. And if this latest scandal has changed Coach’s mind, well… Andrew can give the man some incentive. But sitting on the floor in a pool of stale sweat and anguish isn’t doing any of them any good. 

“Come on.” Andrew offers his hand. 

They don’t usually need a ‘yes or no’ anymore, but Andrew asks anyway. With a _Yes_ they step into the shower and Neil lets Andrew wash the stink of fear away. 

*

The interview is a goddamn shit show. Neil had asked Andrew to stay in the car, as if he’s trying to protect Andrew from the chaos. But it doesn’t work like that, and of course Andrew sneaks in anyway. He’s always done what he wanted, Neil should know that by now. He watches the interviewers tear into Neil like rabid dogs on a rabbit. 

Andrew is ready to fight his way past security to make his way into the stage before Neil steels himself and lashes back. That damn mouth was at least one hundred twenty percent of the two hundred; it was Andrew’s favorite part of Neil. Well, one of them. 

The show host keeps trying to turn things back on Neil. She asks what he was doing by a club he was underage to enter; she implies over and over again that Neil was the one at blame here. She blames him for putting himself in the position to be raped in the first place. It was like watching a preacher teach a sermon on values, only to turn around and tell women not to walk alone at night, to cover their bodies in modest clothes and not to go out at night. 

It’s disgusting. Neil looks ready to run at several points, and Andrew expects him to get up and walk away. But he fights on the only way he can. Andrew is proud of him; despite the breakdowns that happened throughout the week, Neil is holding his own against the onslaught of implications and not budging to her verbal blows. 

When Neil finally leaves, it is nothing short of spectacular. 

“I’ve said what needs to be said. And anyone who disagrees with that can honestly go fuck themselves.” 

Neil rips off the mic and cord when he stands to leave. The host is gaping after him as if she hadn’t pushed him to begin with. 

Andrew walks to greet Neil. They need to go before a reporter or someone else has a chance to snag Neil. Unfortunately, Neil’s coach beats Andrew there. He watches Neil disappear into the lockers. Andrew leaves for a cigarette or three, and is in the car when Neil returns half a pack of smokes later. 

The Maserati rocks when Neil throws himself into the passenger seat. He steals the cigarette out of Andrew’s mouth. 

“Let’s leave. Let’s pack what we need and just leave. Fuck the Yetis. Fuck Alfaro. If Zhou still wants me after he sees the interview, I’ll sign with the Titans.”

“I will admit I was rather unimpressed with the interview. What did Alfaro say in the locker rooms?”

Neil pulls at his hair, and the cigarette singes it. Andrew pulls onto the street, cutting off some dude with a truck that is obviously overcompensating for either his paycheck or his cock. 

“Victim blaming bullshit, just like you said. How I have to face the repercussions of the ‘sex scandal’. They mentioned how bad it would look for the team, and that I’m a bad role model for children. As if any of that affects my playing. Then there was the part of how I should let the news know how supportive and understanding my team was in such trying times for me; you know, protect the good name and all. They didn’t even want to speak to me.”

They didn’t ask Neil for clarification when the videos came out. They assumed the worst, because the Yetis cared about image and branding. They wanted Neil because Neil was well known, not necessarily because he was the best striker in Exy. Well, fuck the Yetis. Colorado was fucking cold anyway. And the potheads couldn’t drive for shit, the traffic as slow and congested. 

“I’ll talk to Zhou. You’re coming to Tennessee with me.” 

Zhou would sign Neil, or he would lose Andrew. It was as simple as that. It was time for Neil to come home.

**Author's Note:**

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